One fuch you know, a Layman to your Shame, You are too free,-and I'm your Slave again. Fool, Rogue, Sot, Blockhead, or fuch Names are mine, Yours are a Connoiffeur, or deep Divine. I'm chid for loving a luxurious Bit, The facred Prize of Learning, Worth, and Wit: And yet some sell their Lands these Bits to buy; Then pray who suffers most from Luxury! I'm chid, 'tis true; but then I pawn no Plate, I feal no Bonds, I mortgage no Estate. Befides high Living, Sir, muft wear you out With Surfeits, Qualms, a Fever, or the Gout. By fome new Pleasures are you ftill engrofs'd, And when you fave an Hour you think it loft. To Sports, Plays, Races, from your Books you run, And like all Company except your own. You hunt, drink, fleep, or (idler ftill) you rhyme: Why?-but to banish Thought, and murder Time. And yet that Thought which you discharge in vain, Like a foul loaded Piece, recoils again. Poet. Tom, fetch a Cane, a Whip, a Club, a Stone,— Servant. For what? I'll fhoot the Dog. Poet. A Sword, a Pistol, or a Gun. Serv. Lord, who would be a Wit? He's in a mad, or in a rhyming Fit. Poet. Fly, fly, you Rascal, for your Spade and Fork; For once I'll fet your lazy Bones to work. Fly, or I'll fend you back without a Groat E PIG RA M. On the Rev. Mr. Hanbury's PLANTATION, and MUSIC MEETING, at Church Langton, in Leicestershire. O fweet thy Strain, so thick thy Shade, The pleas'd Spectator fees The Miracle once more display'd THE LAW THE STUDE N T. To George Colman, A. M. of Ch. Ch. Oxford. Quid tibi cum Cirrhá? quid cum Permessidos undâ ? NOW MARTIAL. OW Chrift-Church left, and fixt at Lincoln's Inn, Now groan the Shelves beneath th' unusual Charge Of Records, Statutes, and Reports at large. Each claffic Author feeks his peaceful Nook, And modeft Virgil yields his Place to Coke, No more, ye Bards, for vain Precedence hope, But even Jacob take the Lead of Pope! While the pil'd Shelves fink down on one another, And each huge Folio has it's cumb'rous Brother, While, arm'd with thefe, the Student views with Awe His Rooms become the Magazine of Law, Say whence fo few fucceed? where thousands aim, So few e'er reach the promis'd Goal of Fame? Say, why Cæcilius quits the gainful Trade For Regimentals, Sword, and fmart Cockade ? L 4 Or Or Sextus why his firft Profeffion leaves For narrower Band, plain Shirt, and pudding Sleeves? The Depth of Law asks Study, Thought, and Care; Shall we feek these in rich Alonzo's Heir? Such Diligence, alas! is feldom found Who ftudies Fashions at the Inns of Court; By Law let others toil to gain Renown! Him Him ev'ry Witling views with fecret Awe, Others there are, who, indolent and vain, Knowledge in Law Care only can attain, There are, whom Love of Poetry has fmit, All other Studies muft of Force give Way. As |